Voices' Warnings; Chapter 1: Stalker
The helicopters strafed silently into position above the sanctuary. Crowds of people on the sidewalks spread out as the S.W.A.T. team vans screeched to a halt, and were quickly forced behind barriers by impatient officers. The rest of the force not marked down for crowd control was ordered inside. Outside, the tension was growing, and some news vans had caught the sight of the S.W.A.T. team and followed them.
The helicopters parted to allow the entry of a jet that the helicopter pilots were told to hope they would never see. The Blackbird jet model was restricted to the utmost tiers of military forces, and only one had been sold to a civilian.
The pedestrians, and those who had gotten out of their cars upon reaching the human road-block, turned as the thin, dark-colored, jet landed on the top of a school.
The officers found nothing barring the door, not even the locks. Inside, everything was perfectly serene. The Reverend stood perfectly still, watching the choir, which was singing with professional quality. Everyone in the audience was perfectly still; not even blinking. The attendees seemed more like statues rather than humans, unflinching in their reverence of the choir.
They remained unaffected by the presence of the officers. When moved, the simply drifted back to the positions they were seemingly forced to fit into. Even the prodding of a gun barrel to the temple didn't disturb an elderly woman who was respectively smiling to the holy sounds up front.
"They're gone, sir," one of the team members said as the captain entered, "nothing's affecting them. They're blind to us."
"Any sign of them?"
"We're looking through the crowd right-"
"Over here," said one of the soldiers, pointing his gun at a girl in an aisle seat. The officers quickly stepped beside and behind his partner, all aiming their guns at the streaked-haired girl, and the young man beside her. "They're just like the others sir: not moving a muscle."
Suddenly, the girl's eyes closed, and she lost her façade, causing her to laugh impishly. Her partner moved too, turning and smiling at her. "Sorry," she told him through the laughter.
"I'm proud you lasted that long," he answered. They were both oblivious to the officers and the firepower aimed at them. The other people in the church did not lose their mysterious constitution when the two targets did.
After exchanging a kiss, the two turned to face their armored enemies. The officers immediately looked anywhere but the man's eyes, as they had been ordered. "Ah'm sorry boys, there's no show here."
"You two are under arrest, under the charges of kidnapping, larceny, public, trespassing, breaking and entering, and murder. You have the right-"
"Captain," the young man interrupted, "this is a house of God. Not a place for activities such as this. This is a place… to pray." The entire S.W.A.T. team hit their knees and clasped their hands together as tightly as possible, then shifted to face the large crucifix up front. Only the captain remained standing, though he found himself unable to move.
The young man stood and maneuvered around the praying men to come face-to-face with the Captain. The young woman stayed seated, smiling as she watched him, her head propped up on her hands. "You'll only make things worse if kill my men."
"I'm not going back to prison…or whatever they called what I was held in."
"You'd rather kill? You'd rather die?"
"Much more the prior than the latter, if it means I can have peace."
"And her?"
"She'll outlive me by far." The girl got a worried look on her face after hearing that and came up behind him, wrapping her arms around him.
"Let's go," she said.
"Okay," he said, putting his hand on hers. "Do you still have that heart condition, Hank?" The captain's eyes widened just as his left arm went numb. Soon enough he was on the ground, leaning up against the side of a pew. "As for you," he turned to the officers, "I hope you prayed, and asked for forgiveness, it was your last chance." Each of them simultaneously grabbed his gun, placed it underneath his chin, and pulled the trigger, just enough to let one bullet fire. The Captain screamed when he heard the gunfire. "Nobody even threatens her, Hank, especially putting a gun to her head. Tell anybody who decides to come after me to come after me alone. Leave her out of this."
Just as they turned, the door burst open again, this time pushed by telekinetic force. A group of teens led by a man in a wheelchair entered the church. They took a second to view their surroundings, a church with a choir still singing in full force, and people still watching that choir intently, despite the fact that a few were covered in blood, and their were thirty dead police officers on the floor.
The two people they came looking for were standing in the middle of the purity and evil that swayed throughout the room.
"Richard," Xavier uttered through his stupor, "do you honestly think this will grant you your freedom. You will not be able to scare off the entire government."
"Yes, I will," he simply answered. Then, he turned, and began to walk toward the back exit. The girl turned to follow him.
"Rogue," Kitty cried, "you can't believe in all of this! You're letting him murder all of these people." Richard stopped to wait for Rogue to come to him.
"Ah'm sorry, guys," Rogue answered, "ya can't understand us, or our situation." She then turned and locked arms with Richard.
"Get them," Scott said as they began to walk away. However, the patrons of the church mindlessly stood up and started walking toward the front door, causing a river of humanity to block their way. Jean immediately took to the air, but soon fell to the ground. Kurt found that he had lost his ability to teleport, and Kitty found the people every bit as solid as they should have been. By the time they all realized they no longer had control of their powers, they were surrounded by proverbial zombies, tightly packed together. Scott was the first to exit the side of the crowd and head around, the others soon following.
By the time they had reached the back exit, the officers guarding the door were trying to regain consciousness.
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*One Year Ago*
"Monthly Evaluation number 36: psychological profile of prisoner number 15-0365-5287: Richard Prenson," the speaker bellowed.
"Let's try to get this one done quickly," Dr. Hendrich said. His first day of being head psychologist was the first day that Richard came to the Washington Psychological Center. Richard made sure that it was a night that he would never forget. That had been more than four years before this psychological profile, Richard's fiftieth.
"Well, let's start," Hendrich sat across from the foreboding figure, and turned on a tape recorder. He also made absolutely sure that the machine he'd received from a mysterious benefactor was fully operational. The device made sure that the boy couldn't do whatever it was he was capable of doing. That first night, Hendrich didn't believe in it, but afterward, it was the most important piece of equipment in the building. In fact, it was the first thing that the backup generator supported in case of a power outage. "Do you know why you're in here?" Dr. Hendrich started the interrogation.
"Because I diagnosed insane after defending myself in a fight."
"And who was is that attacked you?"
"Three people. A man that seemed like a lion, a woman that could change her, and a man that could effect magnetic fields."
"Did anyone else see these attackers."
"No."
"Do you know why they attacked you?"
"Yes. I refused to join them."
"Does this not sound unbelievable to you?"
"I saw it with my own eyes."
"Do you have any special abilities?"
"Yes, I do."
"And just what are they?"
"I'm not sure."
"Have you ever used your abilities?"
"I used them to survive the fight."
"Is that the only time?"
"… yes."
"Do you consider yourself sane?"
"Yes."
Hendrich smirked, "I think that's all we need." He turned off the tape recorder. "Why is it that you never say anything different? I know you've had the guards tell you about the "Mutant Crisis" in this country."
"Because I know you never let anyone else hear those tapes."
"Very astute."
"It can't last forever, though," Richard said, "you can't keep me a secret; especially after I break out."
"No need speaking of things that will never happen." The doctor turned the tape recorder back on. "Is there anything special that you'd like to add."
"Yes."
"And that is?"
"This facility's backup generator has been broken for a week." Dr. Hendrich looked confused for a split second that the lights were still on.
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*Three Months Ago*
The large figure leaned against the wall for support, leaving a trail of blood along the walls. Barely able to hold his own weight under his broken leg, he made as much noise as possible trying to get the attention of one of those young pukes he was forced to work with. The man that attacked him knew that his body healed head injuries first, and made sure there were plenty of them. Adding to that, he made sure that his healing abilities weren't operating fully, at about a quarter of the speed he was used to.
It turned out Sabretooth was late to a meeting held on the other side of the base, making his walk all the longer. He reached the meeting stumbling through a shadowed entrance.
"Where have you…" Magneto noticed Victor's battered body. "Who did this?"
"I did," Sabretooth said through gritted teeth.
Magneto assumed he meant a copy of himself. "Mystique?"
"No," Sabretooth said angrily, "me."
"I assume there's a reason then."
Sabretooth stared down Magneto as he approached. "Prenson."
Magneto straightened out his body. "I would have expected your will to be too strong for him."
"Like yours five years ago?" Magneto restrained himself from attacking the injured man. "It doesn't matter anyway. He's stronger."
"Did he say anything?"
"No."
Magneto turned away from Sabretooth, deciding to give him time to heal. "We gotta new target?" Gambit decided to follow Magneto.
"I don't want any of you going near him."
"Dat'll be hard, we've never seen him."
"Have him tell you," Magneto nodded to Creed, "and leave me to myself."
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The house was abandoned. Only the unnecessary furniture and accessories were left in the moonlit house. She had been expecting him, but she didn't want to face him. Richard understood this reaction, but still considered it cowardly.
"You were in a hurry," he said, bending down to pick up a picture. It was a picture of Rogue when she was about twelve, around the last time he saw her. Irene didn't keep pictures around for herself, she kept them for Mystique. Richard found it surprising that Rogue never figured that out.
He popped open the back of the frame and placed the picture in his coat pocket. There was no need to be in the house: Irene wasn't coming back. Before actually exited the house, he passed by a bookshelf that only had one book in it, on the top. Richard recognized it as the book of notes she'd written about her sleeping visions. She had four at the time he was arrested. Richard decided to hang onto the diary as well.
He looked at the last page, surprisingly, it was written on the current date. The entry was not prose, as the rest of the predictions were, but simply a letter, addressed to him.
"Richard,
I am truly sorry that there was no attempt made to rescue you. The choices were to leave you in and try to escape Magneto's clutches ourselves, using our abilities, or to let you out and have no control over your actions. The choice was Mystique's, and she was willing to let you out until the battle. She was on the receiving end of your powers and it frightened her, far more than any telepathy or kinesis. We do consider ourselves on the side of right, and we could not have rightly let your power loose among the populace, mutant or otherwise.
Any difference of opinion we had would most assuredly end in losing any personality that we possessed, and you would rule over us. We could not allow a young teenager to have control over us, and we had so few options. The institution was the only one that had you living this long. All other possibilities lead to your demise.
I know this letter finds you a more mature and trustworthy person than the curt, violent teen that we were forced to put into isolation. This maturity it what I hope will help you make the right decision. Do not seek out Mystique or myself with vengeance on your mind. Mystique is missing and nobody knows where I have moved today.
Lastly, do not approach Rogue. She has too much on her mind right now. She does not need to find out that you are actually alive.
Irene"
"Well," Richard said to himself, "looks like I actually owe you a favor, Irene. I'm going to have to thank you." Richard again began to walk out of the house, but stopped to ponder something. He thought of someone else who needed to read the letter.
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Of all the things that Rogue hated, which was a hefty list, she had to hate school the most. Not only was she completely disinterested with everything they taught, citing that Bayville High didn't offer the classed she wanted to take, but all teachers seemed to abandon the thought that school could contain any sort of entertainment at the turn of the century. Now, the only entertainment Rogue had at school was seeing some of the people she didn't like falling over or hurting themselves in some way. Despite the large number of people she didn't like, they didn't hurt themselves very often, at least not while she was around.
"Hey, Rogue," Jean called, "need a ride?"
"No," she called back, "I hafta go buy a book."
"See you later, then," Jean yelled over the roar of the engine. Once the van turned around onto the street, she saw that Scott was in the passenger seat, thoroughly enjoying Jean's company. Rogue scowled, despite the fact that she had taken a liking to Jean. She just didn't like anything Jean liked. Once they got around to doing nothing together, they got along quite well.
Rogue took the long way to the book store, just to waste time thinking. Mostly about how there were only two weeks left in the school year, and her psychology teacher finished his curriculum early, so he decided to throw in a little extra, costing every student fifteen dollars. Of course, it was Xavier who actually paid for the book, but Rogue was still pissed off that she had two more weeks of work instead of watching pointless videos, which gave her time to think.
Rogue took the long way to the bookstore she always went to when she had assigned spending. Everyone else always rushed off to Barnes & Noble first, despite the fact the vice-principal's brother owned the shop and knew all about the school's assigned books.
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The elderly bookstore owner watched the suspicious-looking man who looked around twenty years old enter the store. Only someone who had many years of experience behind a register could spot the real psychos, despite how they were dressed. The young man was around twenty years old, short brown hair and green eyes covered by wire-rimmed glasses. He was wearing a blue polo shirt and khaki pants. This was the typical dress and look of many of his customers. There were two differences that set him apart. The way he carried himself made him seem way too assured of himself, which meant he was sure of his physical abilities, making him prone to physically attacking people. He also could have been too assured in his mental abilities; and judging by the way he was dressed, it was probably directly correlated to his money, and a man with a lot of money entering a small, privately owned business was never good for the owner of the small business. The second thing that set him apart was the way that his eyes darted around the room, making it seem like he was either paranoid, or correct in assuming that trouble was coming for him; neither option bode very well for anyone in the store.
He quickly found the aisle he was looking for and searched aimlessly. The clerk kept a close eye on him. Despite his irregularities, he didn't seem dangerous, just prepared. He picked out three books and brought them to the counter.
"How are you doing today, sir," Walter said politely.
"Best I've been in years," Richard replied placing his books on the counter, all of them about the human brain in some way. Walter smiled at the man and told him the price. Richard handed over his money and began looking at the man pictures that Walter hung up on the wall. All of the pictures were of his regular customers, all hung with their permission. Walter could tell that a specific picture caught his eye. "What's that girl's name," he asked, pointing to the picture of Walter's most memorable customer, both because of her attitude and her look.
"Oh," Walter turned make sure what picture he was pointing at, "her? She's a real quiet girl comes in every now and then. Won't give me her real name. Calls herself Rogue." He turned back to Richard, who was still staring at the picture. "Why? You know her?"
"I gave her that nickname."
Walter saw someone approaching the door, and instinctively turned to see who it was. It just so happened to be the one the two men had been talking about. "Well, look who-" The young man was gone. Just as Walter thought, another weird one coming through his store. He probably didn't even know the girl.
"Hey, Walter," Rogue called.
"Hello, Rogue," he called back. She went to the same section that her admirer had, and picked out the book that Walter knew she was coming for. "You expecting any friends coming into town for you?"
"No," Rogue grew suspicious. "Why do you ask?"
"Some guy was in here a second ago, said he knew you."
"Did he say his name?"
"Nope," Walter replied. "Probably just a crazy guy. You'd be surprised at how many there are out there."
"Well, ah'll keep my eyes open," Rogue smiled and took her book. Walter was one of the few people she would smile at, and definitely the only person with a camera she'd smiled at in over five years, as her picture on the wall attested to.
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Rogue arrived back at the mansion at about six o'clock. She had wondered around aimlessly for a while after buying the book, reading the intro to the book, and thinking about that guy Walter talked about, and then just thinking about nothing.
She entered her room, ready to go to bed early, despite the fact that it was Friday. "Oh, Rogue," Kitty said as she passed by the laundry room. "Could you give me you comforter and sheets to wash?" So Rogue wasn't going to bed as soon as she thought.
"Yeah," Rogue submitted.
"Oh, and there's, like, a letter for you on your bed."
"From who?"
"The envelope doesn't say." Just a minute later, Rogue was on her way to Xavier's office. "Hey! What about your sheets?"
Xavier felt Rogue coming. She entered without knocking, and looked confused and angry. The mental projections Xavier caught confirmed this. "What is it, Rogue?"
"I need to talk to Irene, now."
***
I started writing fanfic again after a ten-month break. At first I just continued work on my other fic: X-Men: The Savage. A story is in the comicverse. Then I had this concept hacking away at the back of my brain, so I started writing what you just read and hopefully enjoyed. After finishing this chapter, I finished the third chapter of X-Men: The Savage, and hopefully I'll be able to repost the second chapter without any errors this time.
I would like to know which of these you would like me to continue work on first. Please read both before choosing. I threw in a bit from the middle of where I'm taking this story at the beginning just to put this story on equal footing with my other. Thank you for the input.